


Traffic School

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul and Harrison end up at traffic school</p>
            </blockquote>





	Traffic School

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Downloading Aliens #3, Ann Walton editor, and reprinted in Green Floating Weirdness #20 under the pen name Gillian Holt.

_"I've heard that one before, sonny."_

 

          "Colonel, we're gonna to be late."  The twelve-year-old squirmed in her seat and folded her arms across her chest, her bottom lip beginning to protrude.

          "Debi, I'll get you to the dentist's office in plenty of time.  Besides, no one wants to go to the dentist's," Ironhorse said.

          "I do."

          _In the name of heaven, why?_ the colonel thought.  He drew in a deep breath, counted to five, and asked, "Why?"  The lower lip crept out another centimeter.  "We'll make it, Deb."

          "Not at this speed we won't."

          Ironhorse checked the speedometer.  He was already going 78.  He pressed slightly, the needle shifting to 80.  A burst of siren and a red and blue light flashed in his rearview mirror.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Lt. Colonel Paul Ironhorse sat in the stark waiting room and tried not to scowl at the receptionist behind the nearby desk.

          _A ticket.  A freakin' ticket!_ he fumed.  The absolute first civilian infraction he'd ever been caught committing, and it was a freakin' seventy-five dollar ticket!  His eyes narrowed and the receptionist hastily scooped up several files and disappeared into the back to deposit them – far away from the smoldering soldier.

          Ironhorse tugged the slip of paper free from his shirt pocket and read it over again.  Seventy-five dollars.  It wasn't that he couldn't afford it, damn it, it was the principle of the thing.

          He read the last paragraph again.  Traffic school.  He could avoid paying the fine, _and_ have the ticket removed from his record, _if_ he attended an eight hour session of traffic school.

          He cringed.  The term reminded him of the orientations and introductions he'd been forced to attend at new Army bases.  Boring, boring, boring.  Not to mention humiliating, humiliating, humiliating.

          Still, school was better than paying, and having the blemish on his otherwise perfect driving record.

          _Traffic school_.  He tried to whisper the words, but they stalled on the tip of his tongue like the bitter taste of an aspirin that refused to go down.

          He'd have a talk with Debi.  Blackwood couldn't get wind of this or he'd never hear the end of it.

          He rubbed at the tip of his nose, the antiseptic and fluoride smells starting to annoy him.  In the back, the drill started and Ironhorse clamped his teeth together as a shiver caused him to squirm in the chair.  He hated dentists.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Debi bounced out of the door and leaned against the counter.  Behind it, a young, tall, tanned, blond, blue-eyed surfer in medical scrubs smiled down at the girl – showing off his perfect white teeth.

          Ironhorse bristled.  No wonder Debi wanted to see the dentist.

          There ought to be a law against someone who looked like Dr. Matt Braun making the kind of money he did, Paul thought.

          "So, we'll see you again next week for a cleaning, young lady.  And don't forget to floss."

          "I won't," Debi promised with an adoring gaze through her eyelashes.

          Surfer-dentist handed the girl's file to the receptionist as she joined him behind the desk.  "We'll need to see Ms. McCullough next week for a cleaning, and I want to check number seven."

          "Right," the young woman said, scribbling on the file and then flipping her appointment calendar open.

          "And this… is for you," he said, reaching under the counter and then handing Debi a lime-green lollipop.

          Ironhorse stood and stalked over to join the twelve-year-old.  "Repeat business?" he half-growled at the man.

          Surfer-dentist flashed another perfect smile.  "They're sugar-free."

          "They're really good, too," Debi informed the colonel, as she stripped off the plastic wrap and stuck the treat into her mouth.

          "Would you like to try one?" the bronze Adonis asked.

          "No.  Thank you," Ironhorse replied.

          "How's Friday the twenty-fourth?  At three p.m.?" the receptionist asked.

          "Okay," Debi said.

          The woman filled out a small business cards with the appointment information, then handed it to the girl, who pushed it into the pocket of her jeans.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Harrison Blackwood checked his watch and swore softly under his breath.  He was going to be late.  He'd dropped Debi off to get her teeth cleaned, and the receptionist had assured him it would take half an hour.  He'd been sure he could get over to the Ecology Store and back before she was done, but the new sales clerk had gotten him going on the advantages of a complete versus partial vegetarian lifestyle and the time had just slipped away.

          If he forced Debi to wait she'd be mad at him the entire trip back.  He pressed harder on the accelerator, edging the needle slightly over 80.  The immediate squawk of a siren caused him to jump.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Debi was reading when Blackwood stalked into the office.

          "Hi, Harrison," she said, tossing the magazine back on the tattered stack on the coffee table and pushing herself off the couch.  "Find a lot of things at the Ecology Store?"

          Blackwood's mood lightened slightly.  "A few."

          "Great.  I'm ready."  Debi headed for the door, smiling at the pretty brunette receptionist.  "See you in six months."

          "Right," the woman replied.  "And don't forget to floss."

          "I won't."

          Blackwood led the way back to the Bronco and opened the door for the twelve-year-old.  Walking around, he contemplated his options: paying the fine, or attend a day of traffic school.  If he paid for the ticket there was a good chance Ironhorse would find out, since they all operated out of a consolidated slush fund that represented the salaries the government paid them.  That left traffic school.

          He sighed inwardly.  Well, it couldn't be that bad.  All he had to do was find a way to get to the class without Ironhorse finding out where he was going.  It wasn't like there was much of a chance that aliens would be attending.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Harrison picked at his food, watching the colonel from the corner of his eye.  Ironhorse was acting slightly strangely, although the astrophysicist wasn't at all sure how he knew that, or just what it was he was basing the observation on.  Not that it mattered.  He _had_ to find a way to sneak past the man and get to class on time.

          Finishing the last of his fruit crepes, Blackwood gulped the remainder of his coffee, wiped his mouth and started to speak.  Ironhorse cut him off.

          "I'm going to have to run into town," he said.  "But I'll have my beeper and mobile phone if anything should come up."

          Norton grinned at the colonel from across the table.  "Hot date, big guy?"

          Ironhorse's lips twisted into a wry crooked smile.  "Don't I wish, Norton, but I'm afraid this is need-to-know."

          "Could you pick up some more slides and test tubes from the supply house?" Suzanne asked, pouring herself another cup of coffee.

          "I'll see what I can do." 

          "When will you be back?" Harrison asked as innocently as he could.  This was exactly the break he needed.

          Ironhorse thought a moment.  "I should be back for dinner."  Blackwood nodded.  "Call me if anything comes up."

          "No problem," Norton chirped.

          Ironhorse stood and left.

          Blackwood waited anxiously until he heard the engine start and the Bronco pulled out of the parking area.  "Well, I think I'm going to make a run into town, too," he announced.

          "Harrison," Suzanne chided, "you know you're not—"

          "Suzanne, what the Colonel doesn't know won't hurt me."

          She shook her head.  They were worse than Debi sometimes.  "Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you when Paul hears about it."

          "I don't expect him to hear about it," was Blackwood's retort.

          "And when will _you_ be back?" Norton asked.

          "Before Ironhorse – I hope."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The colonel pulled into the parking lot and crept along at the posted 5 mph speed limit until he found an open spot.  How many people were taking this class?

          Climbing out, he grabbed the mobile phone off the dash and locked the door.  He paused a moment, staring at his reflection.  Why the hell was he embarrassed?  It wasn't like people didn't get tickets.   _He_ didn't get tickets!  Twenty plus years of driving and no tickets, until now.  He forced himself to march over to the building and enter.

          There were at least sixty people there, crowded into the collection of old desks that looked like they were built for someone Debi's age.  He hadn't taken two steps when a grating voice crackled from behind him.

          "You the instructor, sonny?"

          Ironhorse turned to find a small, elderly woman with silver-gray hair and pale blue eyes.  He smiled at her.  "No, ma'am, I'm—"

          "Well, then, what are you doing, standing there in everybody's way?  Move it!"

          Ironhorse jumped, the pleasant country grandmother image shattered, replaced with that of a retired drill instructor.  He stepped aside to allow her to pass.

          She clucked as she started past, then paused and glowered at him.  "You look like you should've known better, sonny."

          Spotting an open spot in a far corner, Ironhorse excused himself and quickly made his way over, trying to avoid stepping on toes and bumping any of the desks that had cups of McDonald's coffee sitting on them.  He squeezed into the seat, wishing he could simply disappear.

          The large clock on the far wall ticked off the minutes, and the colonel sank lower in the chair.  With two minutes to go and no sign of their instructor, Ironhorse heard the door open.  Hoping it was whoever was going to get the show on the road, he sat up straight and looked out across the sea of heads to find Harrison Blackwood entering.

          _How the hell did he find me?_ he moaned silently.  There must be trouble.  "Blackwood?" he called.

          Harrison froze in the doorway.  _Ironhorse?  How in the hell…?_

          "Colonel?" he questioned, looking around.

          Ironhorse rose halfway out of his chair and motioned the astrophysicist over, trying to ignore the stares from the others in the room.  Blackwood maneuvered through the gauntlet until he reached Paul.

          "Colonel, how—?"

          "What's going on?" Ironhorse interrupted.

          "Going on?" Harrison questioned.

          "What're you doing here, Doctor?" Ironhorse growled.

          "What?"  Blackwood's eyes narrowed and a smile tugged at his lips.  "What are _you_ doing here?"

          "I asked you first, mister."

          "He got a ticket, just like you did, sonny.  Now, _both_ of you sit down," the old woman snapped at the pair.

          Both men turned to stare, but the malevolent expression on her wrinkled face stalled any retort either man might have made.  Blackwood walked over and lifted an empty desk over his head and carried it back to a space near Ironhorse's seat.  Wedging it in, Harrison squeezed into the too small seat and nodded to the old woman.

          "Pasadena?" he whispered to Paul.

          "My bet."

          They sat in silence as another ten minutes passed, then Harrison leaned over until his shoulder pressed up against Ironhorse's.  "So, what did they nail you for, Colonel?"  He felt as the soldier suck in a deep breath.  "Never mind.  I didn't know you made a habit of this sort of thing."

          "I _don't_ make a habit of speeding, Doctor."  Ironhorse stopped and glared at the scientist.  "This was my _first_ ticket."

          "Ha!" the old woman sounded off.  "I've heard that one before, sonny."

          "It's the truth," Ironhorse defended.

          Blackwood grinned.  "And Uncle Sam or Uncle General Hank couldn't fix it?"

          Ironhorse shifted his attention back to Harrison.  "I don't get tickets _fixed_."

          "Well, if I thought you could've fixed mine, I would've asked."

          Ironhorse's eyebrows rose slightly.  "And what exactly did _you_ do?"

          Blackwood shrugged.  "I was in a hurry to pick Debi up from the dentist."

          Ironhorse snorted.

          "What?"

          "I was in a hurry to get her _to_ the dentist."

          The two men chuckled.

          "Maybe the both of you should've been in more of a hurry to keep her away from the candy," the old woman criticized.

          Ironhorse and Blackwood exchanged glances.  It was going to be a long day…


End file.
